Dream
by TheSmileyFaceGuy
Summary: "And suddenly, it didn't matter. Sherlock was alive and well, and he loved me. Before I knew what was happening – before I even had a chance to over think it – I firmly pressed my lips to his." (Johnlock. Oneshot)


**Author's Note**: Hey guys! TheSmileyFaceGuy here, with an important announcement. Like my last fic, "Dream" is a gift for my good friend snailhair101. Seriously, I don't ship this...promise. :)

**Disclaimer**: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK! :) Enjoy. :)

:) :) :)

"Sherlock!" I screamed, not believing my eyes.

It was him, alive again, and wearing nothing but a smile and my red underwear...again. He walked over to me gracefully, pulling me into his long arms.

"I've missed you, Jawn. More than you can imagine," he whispered in my ear. His hands moved slowly to my back.

"Why, Sherlock? Why did you do it? Why did you jump?" I asked, my tears leaking onto his boney shoulder.

"For you, Jawn. I never wanted to leave you," he said quietly. He pushed me back far enough to look me in the eye. His own eyes were glistening with tears. "Moriarty was going to kill you, Jawn. I couldn't let that happen to you. I love you." A blush was creeping into his high cheekbones.

"You love me, Sherlock? Really?" I asked, my heart beating a thousand miles an hour. He smiled, wide and toothy.

"Yes, Jawn, I do love you." He brushed my face gently with the back of his hand, "and I can tell you love me, too. Rapid breathing, even faster pulse, dilated pupils, flushed cheeks..." he said, cupping my cheek.

"Answer me one thing, Sherlock. How did you do it? How did you jump off that rooftop and live?" I asked.

"Does it matter? I'm here now and that's all that matters. I love you, Jawn, and I'm never leaving you again," he whispered intently.

And suddenly, it didn't matter. Sherlock was alive and well, and he loved me. Before I knew what was happening – before I even had a chance to over think it – I firmly pressed my lips to his.

He gave a low moan from the back of his throat as he pulled me closer to him, running his hands over my back. I ran my own hands through his dark, curly locks, relishing their silky feel between my fingers.

Suddenly, he scooped me up and pinned me to the sitting room wall, his breath coming in husky gasps. He returned to the kiss with a familiar ferocity, sending a sweet tingling throughout my body. His lips parted. So did mine. Our tongues joined, locked in a fierce, but pleasurable fight for dominance. My leg hooked around his waist without consent, drawing Sherlock closer. I didn't resist it.

He pulled away again, his breathing desperate gasps that mirrored my own. He was also smiling. Really, truly smiling. Not the arrogant smirk when he knew a lot of things you didn't, or the tight-lipped, almost grimace of something amusing. No, this was the smile I would fight a thousand wars to see. For Queen, Country, and Sherlock's smile.

"Oh, Jawn..." he started, still smiling.

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock," I griped, kissing him again.

He chuckled into our kiss, finally pulling my leg from his hip and my hands from his neck. Still holding onto my hand, he started pulling me in the direction of his room.

"Come on, Jawn, there's something I want you to see," he said, voice thick with lust.

As he led me through the doorway, I realized I was outside. In fact, I was standing across from the hospital. It was cold; my heart was pounding. Where did Sherlock go?

"This phone call, it's er,...it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – Leave a note?" he asked, the mobile pressed to my ear.

Leave a note? What the hell...No...Not again! Please, not again!

"Please, Sherlock! Please don't – !"

"Goodbye, John."

With that, I heard his mobile clatter to the rooftop, and watched in pure horror as my best friend leaped from the building. Again. I ran, heedless of traffic, doing my damnedest to get there before he hit. But it was as if God had pressed the pause button in my life, and I was forced to watch and listen as his living body made impact with the sidewalk.

I bolted upward in my bed, heart racing, panting hard, and covered in sweat. Just a dream. Another dream. The dam burst and tears poured down my face. My chest – heart – ached. The dream taunted me with everything that could have been and reminding me of what was. I wept, uncontrollably, into my pillow. Only one word repeated over and over in my mind:

Sherlock.


End file.
